Disaster
by CaptainPop
Summary: Sam thinks that a relationship with Carly is a disaster waiting to happen and the quake that shakes Seattle is a disaster that is happening and the effects of both are disastrous.
1. Chapter 1

The midnight Seattle wind catches your blond curls and blow them out behind you as blue-green eyes are casting a bored and dark gaze across the city lights. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your vest.

Your feet perch on the edge of the roof twenty two floors above the back parking lot of Bushwell Towers and it is such a long way down. Almost five seconds to the pavement below. You lean over further to check if it is a clear drop and find it is unobstructed.

The iPhone in your pocket plays Bad Romance. You know it is _her_ calling. Again. You argue with yourself a moment more if you should just answer it and be done with it all. You frown. The conversation will be the same and you really are not ready to continue it tonight.

So, you turn your eyes back to the Seattle skyline, take a deep breath, and step out into nothingness, counting in your head...one-one thousand...


	2. Mending

**A/N: Not sure where I'm going with this fic. It was something that popped into my head and I had to put it to text. I hope you like it. I'm still working on the webshow to bring a unique side of Jennette McCurdy to the fans. And I hope you will like that, too!**

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Your eyes open with a jolt and you start coughing up dead air from your lungs, rolling onto your side and groaning as the electrical charge leaves your body.

You focus on the cars filling the parking lot in the pale yellow light of overhead lamps. At least you missed them. Rolling to your back again, you look straight up twenty-two stories to the roof. Yeah, it was still a five second drop.

Maybe you should just close your eyes and sleep here.

Bad Romance plays again from your pocket. Damn, those iPhones are durable.

You fish it out of your pocket and put it to your ear. "Hey, cupcake," you answer without your usual enthusiasm. You feel tired and know that your head will start hurting soon. Normally, there is a surge of pleasure flowing through your body when she calls. Not tonight.

"Sam," Carly begins. "Are you on the roof?"

You look straight up at the distant roof above you. "Uh...nope."

There is a heavy, drawn out sigh in your ear. "_Were_ you on the roof?" There is a bit of an edge to her voice. Slight annoyance.

"Uh...yup."

There is a drawn out silence and you begin to wonder if Carly is still on the other end of this conversation. Finally, she says: "Can we talk?"

The throb is starting behind your eyes. It will only get worse. This call is not going to help. "We _are_ talking. You're talking. I'm talking. This is talking."

"Sam," Carly scolds. "I'm being serious."

You blow out a long stream of air. "Yeah, I know, cupcake. Look, can this wait until tomorrow?"

"Isn't that the problem, Sam?" Carly's voice sighs in your ear and you catch the double meaning immediately.

You have always known that this girl was dedicated and now you have come to realize that she is also quite relentless. This is not something you had planned on dealing with. It had always been your intention to avoid this entire situation. You are good at avoiding situations you really don't want to deal with. But, Carly is a bloodhound when she wants to find out something. She will not be letting this go.

"Fine," you growl, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples with your left thumb and forefinger. This headache is going to be a killer. You laugh to yourself at the unintentional humor. It doesn't lighten your mood. "I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Sam?"

"Yes, Carly?" you sigh.

"I love you."

You end the call and stuff the phone back into your jacket pocket. This is gonna be tougher than you had expected.


	3. And so it begins

You pause for the briefest moment outside of Carly's apartment door, collecting yourself with a deep sigh. Why did you come back here. This is nuts. You should leave. Walk away. Run.

You won't though, because it's her.

So, you turn the knob and walk into the apartment and find her waiting for you on the lowest step of the stairs at the back of the room. Her eyes are on you the moment you enter and you give her your best grin, despite your instinct to flee. The thumping in your head has faded away and you stop at the stair post and lean casually against it.

"Hey," you say.

"Hey," she answers quietly, still looking up at you with eyes that seemed to be searching yours, her forehead is creased in thought.

"Sooo..." you drag out, knowing that you really do not want to deal with what is about to come. "Weather's nice."

Carly rolls her eyes and sighs out a breath she must have been holding for a while. "Do you really want to talk about the weather?"

"Um...," you um, thinking that it would be a great topic to discuss. "Sure."

She stands and faces you, her arms are hugging her chest, but her eyes bore into yours. She is silent for an uncomfortably long time before she speaks. When she does speak, her voice is serious. "Do you love me?"

You raise an eyebrow as if this was the dumbest question ever asked and for a moment you wonder if this could pass for one of those questions that are not meant to be answered. But, when Carly continues to stare at you as if expecting an answer, you realize that you had better say something. "D'uh..." Yeah, you are one smooth lady with the lines.

Carly just smiles, hiding a laugh and shakes her head, unfolding her arms and wrapping them around your waist, bringing her into your body real close. "Puckett, you have a way with words. Promise me one thing."

You smile, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tight, looking up the inch of her height over yours to her big brown eyes. "Anything."

"Love me when I'm old a wrinkly?"

You laugh. This girl has a way of lifting your mood. "I'll love you forever, Cupcake."

"Will you stay?" Her voice is so full of need.

It would be so simple to say yes to her. So easy to give in. To stay. "Carls...I can't. The longer I stay, the harder it will be."

"I don't care. I don't want you to go." God, she is cute when she pouts.

"I don't want to go," you admit. "But, you'll be going to uni soon. Then what? It'll look odd enough with us hanging out together. What about when you turn 30? How about 50?"

Carly looks into your eyes as if none of that matters. And, maybe for her it doesn't. But, this isn't your first rodeo. "I'll love you anyway. And I don't care what anyone else thinks. We'll make it work."

"Carls...," you really should argue with her. This won't work. It never has before. Why would it be any different this time. "Whatev."

Carly tightens her grip and speaks slowly: "We will make it work..."

You roll your eyes at her. "Okay. Fine. Sure. We'll make it work..."

"Good." Carly frowns for a moment and leans back to look at you. "How old _are_ you, anyway?"

You smile. "Old enough to know this is a bad idea."


	4. Realizations

The morning is bright. The sun is out for the first time in a few weeks and the clouds are sparse. The air is still chilly, but you notice it only because Carly shivers in her hoodie. She has your hand in hers and you wish that you had a way of trading your lack of feeling for the cold air with her sensitivity.

Your mind drifts for a moment to a time when the cold air of the late fall would chill your skin. When the season moved from Harvest and into Winterfest and thicker clothing was brought out. The furs and the heavy cloaks. The air was fresh and clean and breathing it deep into your lungs had made you feel alive.

You return to the present and realize that Carly is talking to you, but that you have missed most of it. Fortunately, you can usually bluff your way though times like this by appearing to be totally detached and simply grunt a response.

"A grunt is not answering the question, Sam," Carly chastises you, squeezing your hand slightly, her eyes looking at yours with a curved eyebrow.

You continue to walk beside her along the sidewalk, in the morning air, exchanging a look with her as you desperately try to think about what she had been saying to you.

"You have absolutely no idea what I was saying, do you?" Carly accuses with a slight chuckle.

Erp! Caught. Damn... she is good. "I'm so focused on your voice that I got lost in your words, cupcake." Damn. _You _are good.

"How many times have you used _that_ line," Carly asks.

"Once or twice," you answer, though really this is the only time you ever used it and hope that it gets you off the hook.

"And how many times has it worked for you?"

"Including this time?"

Carly rolls her eyes at you and gives her head a little shake. "This time didn't work for you, babe."

You give her the Puckett Pout.

"Yeah, that isn't going to work either. Now, you want to answer my question or do I need to repeat it?"

You sigh. How can she be immune to the Puckett Pout? That always works. Well, usually it does. Sometimes. On the odd occasion. You lower your head a bit, defeated. "Yeah, sorry. Wasn't listening."

Carly gives you a side bump and you love the momentary contact with her body and wonder again why it is that you can feel things with her that you only felt a few dozen times in your past. Nothing else makes you feel like she does. Looking at her sizzles your insides like bacon on the grill. Her touch is like electricity unleashed through your skin. Her voice reaches you through any distraction and forces you to take notice of her. Yes, that's what it is. You _notice _her.

Around you the people of the world move like gray, faceless momentary blobs. Their time in this world is brief and their existence is uninteresting. You pass them completely detached as if they were as meaningless as ants. You are so much stronger than any of them. You perceive so much more of this world, this existence than any of them. They are temporary. They are ephemeral. You are eternal. They are beneath your notice.

But, not Carly. Not her. No. You notice Carly. She makes you weak. She makes you human. She makes you mortal. She is like sweet poison to you.

And, something else. She feels familiar. When you look at Carly, you feel home. Something that you have only felt a handful of times in the past. And each of those times had ended badly. Oh, so badly. Your heart had been shattered and it had taken decades to recover, wandering the world aimlessly until drawn to some other point in time where your heart found home again for all to brief a time. Only to be lost again. Would it be any different now?

You should leave. You know this. Leave before Carly shared the fate of so many before her. But, she is your weakness and you do not have the strength to leave.

Carly has stopped walking and her sudden halt draws you from your thoughts to find her dark brown eyes staring down at you with a shine to them and a grin on her lips and you realize that once again, you have not been paying attention to her question.

"Oops," you grin at her and look up into her dark chocolate orbs and know that you are completely lost to her and no matter how many times you jump off of a building, it will never save you from the love you have for her. And, in the end, that will be your undoing.


	5. Found

You run.

You run fast.

You run fast up to the edge of the roof.

You run fast up to the edge of the roof and jump, leaping across the divide between buildings, clearing almost 20 feet above the alleyway, and hit the pebbles on the opposite roof on both feet, dropping into a shoulder roll and back up onto your feet, running again for the next ledge, the sound of gravel crunching and flying back as each foot digs into the stones and you keep running through the dense fog, dodging obstructions that appear out of the gray darkness, the vent intake, the air pipe, barely able to see more than a yard ahead.

Another ledge, the outline in the heavy mist.

You skid on the roof, trying to stop, sliding over loose stone, dropping to your left knee, right leg extended into your slide, your red Converse catching the lip of the roof, almost bringing you to a stop, but you let your momentum carry you up and over your foot, like a lever over a fulcrum, swinging over the rooftop edge, your left hand grabbing the lip and you roll off the roof and drop, feet first, nine floors to the garbage stained alleyway below.

The sudden stop is jarring right up to your teeth as your legs take the force of the hit with the pavement and you feel the cartilage in your knee joints disintigrate, the joints pop, your ankles snap from the pressure of the impact, your hips dislocate from your pelvis, ripped from their sockets, and leg bones snap like dry tinder and the pain burns through you like a blowtorch.

And blackness engulfs you. Nothingness. Emptiness. Void.

The electric fire flashes through you and snaps you back from the abyss and your lungs desperately suck in air and your eyes go wide with the shock of the now fading tendrils of blue sparks that had danced through your body and crawled over your skin for a momentary eternity of every nerve set afire and your tunnel vision expands like the opening of a camera iris and you are in the world once again.

You stare up from the ground, up through the night and the fog, to the roof tops and feel him looking down for you. Through the fog, you know he can sense you as easily as you sense him. He knows that you are there. He has found you again. He will always find you. Century after century, he will always find you, track you down to the same point, to the same situation and offer the same choice. It will never end. He will always be as drawn to you as you are to her.

You hoped that you could have escaped before he had sensed you there. Deep down, you knew that if you could sense his presence, he could sense yours. You tried to vanish into the black fog of the night, but he had given chase. He has hunted you for far too long to be so easily deceived. He had been on you in moments, chasing you across a dozen roof tops in downtown Seattle.

History is repeating itself again.

If you could cry in frustration, you probably would. You should have left when you were going to go. You should not have let her make you agree to stay. But you are drawn to her. She makes you weak.

This is your fault.

You scramble to your feet and stare up at the image you sense in the mist. You know he won't attack you. There are rules. You do not hold the weapon. You will never hold the weapon. You will never let him win. That would almost be worse than losing her. Again. How many times must you choose?

You have to get away. You know he will let you escape. For tonight. He already knows where you are. Finding you again will not be much of an issue for him.

So, you run.

You run fast.

You run fast to _her._


End file.
